Life Along the Way
by theflockroxmysox
Summary: Chapter 21: "Whatever happened to real romance? Like, long, sappy letters in long-hand?" A collection of one-shots featuring everyone's favorite hitter.
1. Permanent Vacation

**If you have any requests or prompts for me, feel free to tell me in a review or PM.**

**Title: Permanent Vacation**

**Pairing: None**

**Prompt: Author's choice (Eliot) – your characters make a simple mistake that tumbles out of control.**

**-O-**

It was supposed to be a vacation. A vacation from them, from constantly aching bones, from frequent near brushes with death. A week in Cali, under a fake name, fake profession, fake everything. Except his phone number. He always used his real cell phone number, and that was his mistake.

He was standing next to a fountain when they found him. He had enemies in the world, that he knew. But each year that had passed without incident, he had grown cockier. More foolish, more brazen. He had settled down in one place for too long without moving on.

And so his cockiness was to blame for the bullet that sliced through him as he stood by the water fountain that afternoon in Cali. It was to blame when he fell with a splash into the freezing water, when he was instantly surrounded by a sea of red as his life's blood poured out of him. The sniper that had delivered death to him with one shot, only finding him because of his one, simple mistake.


	2. When It Happens

**Pairing: Parker/Hardison from Eliot POV**

**Prompt: author's choice – are those… panties you're wearing on your head?**

**-O- When It Happens  
**

Parker had called for a sleepover. Why had she called for a sleepover? And, more importantly, why had Nate agreed?

So now, Eliot lay on the couch, listening to the soft breathing of his team. The clock on the wall ticked slowly, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat. He had offered to take the floor, but Parker and Hardison had insisted that he take the couch, after having thrown out his back in a fight earlier. Sophie had claimed the chair, and Nate had retired to his room.

The hitter wasn't used to sleeping at this time. He usually slept for ninety minutes a day, around two in the morning. He'd usually be cooking dinner right about now.

Nevertheless, he watched as the world grew thinner, his eyelids ever so slowly sliding shut as he allowed himself to be overtaken by blissful oblivion.

He awoke the next morning to the sounds of clanging in the kitchen. A shot of adrenaline rocketed through his body, and he sat bolt upright. A quick look at the surrounding area told him that Sophie was awake, as were Parker and Hardison. Nate was most likely still sleeping off a hangover.

He looked over as a casual "Morning," sounded from the kitchen. Sophie was perched on one of the stools, a tube of lipstick to her lips and a mirror in her hand. Typical Sophie. Hardison's arm was thrown casually over Parker's shoulder as she toyed with something on the stove, and Parker…

"Is that… underwear on your head, Parker?" Eliot managed to choke out. The thief looked over at him and grinned, but it was nothing compared to Hardison's wide-spread, all-out smile.

"Don't even ask," Sophie advised the hitter, but not before he received a rather disturbing wink from Hardison.


	3. Sometimes You Have To

**Pairing: None**

**Prompt: author's choice (Eliot) – use the words "the first time is the hardest"**

**-O- Sometimes You Have To**

It wasn't supposed to happen. It was _never_ supposed to happen. None of them were ever supposed to feel that pain, that was his job. He took on all that weight, so they wouldn't have to. He was there, so they wouldn't have to be. They weren't supposed to kill, he was.

The plaster wall to his left felt the blunt fist of his anger. He knew what would come. The hacker would be silent. For the next few hours, maybe days, he wouldn't speak a word. His eyes would slide in and out of focus. He'd be afraid of himself, afraid of what he'd done. He wouldn't be able to look at himself in the mirror without cringing away from what he'd become. He would shirk from contact, from conversations, throw himself into his work. And it was his fault, he hadn't been there to stop it.

Eliot knew what would happen. He knew it with certainty – he was back in that dank alleyway, his sister huddled behind him and a cold vengeance burning in his heart as the knife burrowed its way into the man's stomach. Again he felt that pain, that heavy weight of dread and contempt for himself that had settled in the pit of his stomach. Disgust, at what he'd been driven to do. What he'd had to do, many times over. He'd turned himself into a killer, a murderer. And now, he'd fought to protect the team from ever having to experience that, and he'd failed.

The first time was always the hardest.


	4. All That Matters, In the End

**Pairing: Hardison/Parker (from Hardison POV)**

**Prompt: A diary entry, and a quote from my friend's profile**

**Disclaimer: Besides the obvious fact that I don't own Leverage, there is one line in this story from the Mortal Instruments series, I think City of Glass.**

**Couple things that need to be clarified: This takes place far in the future, the team broke up several years ago and never looked back.**

**-O- All That Matters, In the End**

Alec Hardison woke that morning to a killer hangover and the realization that he was insane. How else was he to explain the events of last night? And the night before that? And the week before that? Despite the constant bashing of invisible fists to his brain, the hacker grinned. Life was good. He'd come into a large amount of cash recently, do to some… inaccuracy in the transfer of a large amount of funds from a multi-millionaire hit man to his offshore account. Of course, Hardison hadn't kept all of the money. He'd given some back to the family…

There was a knock on the door. His grin faded as he sat up, and immediately wished he hadn't. The fists had gone from bashing to slamming with a hammer. Another knock, and another. Grudgingly, Hardison got up. Crossing the open floor of his apartment, he grabbed a shirt hanging off of one of the chairs and threw it on. More knocking.

"I'll be right there, dammit!" Reaching the door at last, he turned up on the handle and let it swing open.

Nathan Ford stood in the hallway, hair slightly more unkempt than normal and looking like he hadn't slept in days.

"Whoa, Nate? What're you doing here, dammit? We were supposed to leave each other _alone_, remember? Like… seriously? Seriously? Y-you can't just walk into my house! Come on, man! What the hell?" Hardison dropped his arms in frustration as Nate continued to ignore him.

"Hardison."

"You can't just barge in here like you own the place! It's called privacy! Seriously, Nate, didn't yo' mama ever teach you to respect another man's house?"

"Hardison."

"It's like… it's like sitting on another man's lap. You just don't do it!"

"Hardison!"

"I mean – what? What? What, Nate?" For the first time, he noticed that the man was holding a sealed envelope in his hand.

"It's about Parker."

A moment passed, and then he snatched the envelope from Nate.

Apprehensively, he ripped open the envelope and took out the neatly folded paper, with words scrawled across it in Parker's unmistakable handwriting.

_Hardison,_

_Hi. Uhm… I really don't know how to say this. You know I've never been good with-with conversation. But I'm going to try. For you._

_You know, you're _really_ hard to find. Even I couldn't find you. I had to send this through Nate. And I looked, I did look. For a long time. I know we agreed to go our separate ways, after…_

_Okay, so I stole a few priceless artifacts along the way. So? I'm a thief! Thieves get sidetracked! I did go sightseeing in Tokyo, though. Like you told me to. And it was really boring. _

_You know what else I did? I helped people, Hardison. Just like we used to, just like we all used to. I don't know why, I didn't like giving up all that money, but I did. I think being a part of a team changed us. More than that, I think being a part of Nate's team changed us. And when we left, I think that little piece of white knight came with us, each of us._

_Look, what I'm trying to get at is, I… I'm sorry. Don't be mad, okay? _

_I asked you if I had a choice once. And you said 'We always have choices.' Well, I know this is the right choice. _

_So all I'm asking for right now is your forgiveness, and to listen to me when I tell you that I love you. I didn't at first, and when I did I was too cowardly to admit it. But I didn't want you to think…_

_You know what? I'm craving pretzels._

_Your favorite thief, Parker._

Hardison blinked several times. She… what choices… "Parker didn't write this," he finally managed.

"Yes, yes she did," Nate's voice was quiet.

"But – It doesn't – I mean, it's not… _Parker_."

"Yes, it is. Hardison, she's dead."

The silence seemed to stretch on forever.

"What?"

"Parker's dead. She…" Nate let out an unsteady breath. "She was sick. She had… the money… to-to pay the hospital bills, but she gave it away. She gave it all away."


	5. Nor'easter

**Pairing: Eliot/Parker(ish) (even though I don't ship them)**

**Prompt: hypothermia!Eliot cuddle fic**

**So, not all of the chapters/stories are going to be as angsty as they have been. just so you know. **

**-O- Nor'easter**

No one had anticipated that the mark would be such an SOB. No one had anticipated that he would smell a rat, abandon Parker and Eliot in the middle of the forest and take off with the money _and _the comms. And no one had anticipated the blizzard.

Eliot glanced up at the darkening sky, his spirits darkening with it. The roaring beast of blizzard had subsided at least an hour ago – although he had no way of telling time out here – and now it was just a quiet snowfall. Beside him walked the thief, her blonde hair coated now in white dust, disturbed only by the slight tremors as her body fought to stay warm.

They'd been walking aimlessly for hours, aiming not to find a way out, only to stay warm. Not for the first time, he wished he'd brought an extra jacket, instead of the jean one that he always wore. At least he was wearing boots. Parker was wearing sneakers, and as her feet disappeared into the snow with each step, they became damper. At one point, he'd offered to carry her, but she'd scoffed and kept walking.

He knew that the team was trying their best to find them, but with no tracks to follow and nowhere to start, they were fighting a losing battle. They couldn't keep this up much longer. Dusk was falling, and so were the temperatures. Soon they'd have to stop and find shelter.

Eliot was angry with himself. He should know his way through these woods; he'd spent a lot of his childhood here. But everything looked the same covered in white. They could be walking in circles and they would never know – the snow was erasing their tracks.

"Parker, we need to look for shelter," it was the first time either of them had spoken since the blizzard started, and his voice was surprisingly loud against the muted stillness of the wilderness.

"K-kay," was her reply. Neither of them were wasting words, and whatever energy they had left.

Several more minutes of silent walking later, they found it. It was a small lean-to that had probably once been a shelter and temporary home for many hikers as they passed through. Now, it was half-rotted, pummeled with age, and falling apart. It was a shelter.

The sun had disappeared below the tree line by now, and the shadows of the trees had crept up from behind, seemingly trying to grab onto them and drag them down into the blackness.

It was too damp to build a fire. This, Eliot learned when the long-awaited shower of sparks disappeared, tiny flecks of gray ash on white snow. They'd have to settle for huddling together to stay warm, as the day drew to a close.

Wishing he could do more as they crouched against the wall, he held the left side of his jacket open, motioning for Parker to wrap herself in it with him. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure. Her cold won out, though, and she allowed the hitter to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

Roughly an hour later, the sun had vanished as it was swallowed up by the darkness of night. Temperatures dropped to below freezing. The shack protected them from the wind, but the open roof still allowed the snow to spiral in, landing on their heads and shoulders. It was imperative that they stay awake. Whenever Parker's eyelids began to droop, Eliot would nudge her with his elbow to wake her. He himself was no stranger to lack of sleep, but the cold temperatures made it difficult even on him.

Another hour passed, and the wall shook as they did. It had finally stopped snowing, but neither of them noticed. Parker's arms had unconsciously curled around his body, and now it was her turn to keep him awake. He couldn't feel his toes anymore, or any part of his body for that matter. It was just cold, so cold.

It was killing him, not being able to fight back. He was used to facing off with an enemy that he could see, that he could beat. Now, there was nothing he could do, no one he could punch. Even if there had been, his fists were too stiff to even unclench.

Beside him, Parker let out a tiny whimper. He cringed, hating that the thief, normally so tough and withstanding, had been reduced to a tiny ball huddled on the frozen dirt floor. He hadn't liked the mark to begin with, but now he despised him. Hurting Parker like this was like hurting a defenseless puppy – it was wrong in every sense of the word. If they ever got out of the damned forest, he would make sure the bastard paid for what he had done. If they didn't make it, he knew the rest of the team would hunt him with a vengeance.

By the time the moon reached its peak in the sky, they weren't even shivering any longer. Parker's head lolled against his side, and it took him a full minute to register the movement – and another thirty seconds to bump her with his elbow. She moaned, and didn't move her head.

"Parker," Eliot tried to say, only it came out as nothing more than a rasping noise.

No answer.

Fine, let her sleep. He could use some himself…

Eventually, he became aware of a rhythmic beating, loud, soft, loud, soft, loud, soft. A blurred shape flickered in front of him, and disappeared. Loud, soft. Loud, soft.

He was on fire. Each flame felt like a thousand tiny pinpricks as it licked him. Loud, soft. Loud, soft.

Horses were stampeding across his head. Digging their hooves into his forehead. Loud, soft. Loud, soft.

A fog horn was going off right next to his ear. It shot its deafening noise straight into his brain, cancelling out everything else. Except… loud, soft. Loud, soft.

The sun was having a stare down with him. It was daring him to look away. But no, now it was looking away. And he could see. And his body wasn't screaming at him anymore. And he wasn't in that tiny lean-to. He was in… a hospital? His brain was still slow to compute.

He turned his head to see Parker smiling at him from the bed next to his. Only, her eyes were closed. She was asleep. Her chest rose and fell evenly, her mouth parted slightly. A strand of hair had made its home on her pale face. She was pale, but she wasn't deathly pale.

She was alive. And that was all that mattered.


	6. Aftermath

**I'm back! This is a request from Jarlyfan626.**

**Pairings: None**

**Prompt: The team finds out about Eliot's death in Chapter 1**

**-O-**

**Aftermath**

In the olden days, you would know when someone was dead. You would know when you saw through the window the grim-faced military officer in the dark blue suit ringing your doorbell, holding a sealed white envelope with an official-looking seal stamped on the front. You would know before you even opened the envelope that your brother, husband, son, one of the people you cared most about in the world – was gone.

Only, these aren't the "olden days" anymore.

So when the team found out about Eliot's death, they didn't have any warning. Nothing. They just turned on the news one day and there he was. His face was plastered on the screen, cold and pale in death.

The remote dropped from Hardison's hand. No one heard it fall. Nate's knees gave out, and he sank onto the couch. Sophie's hands crept unconsciously to her mouth. And a slight breeze blew into the room from the window that Parker had left open when she fled.

There was no folding of the flag at his funeral. No bands play a solemn song that nobody wanted to hear. Because Eliot was not a soldier. He hadn't been since he'd quit the army back when he was 24.

He was a retrieval specialist.

He was the honor among thieves.


	7. North of Happiness

**Okay, so I posted over the author's note last chapter, but I don't think it alerted anyone. So, if you haven't yet, go back and read the previous chapter (because it now exists).**

**Pairing: Hardison/Parker**

**Prompt: Parker's bunny**

**-O- And Cue the Applause**

The first time Parker ever opened up about anything to Hardison, it was about her stuffed bunny she'd had as a kid. It was the only thing that had stayed with her through her many torturous years in the foster program. She'd been given it for Christmas by the only person she cared about before he died in a tragic car accident.

And then she'd lost it. She said she figured she must have left it behind at one of the foster houses, but Hardison could tell it was bothering her.

So he'd made a silent vow to her. A vow that he would find her bunny, and wouldn't stop looking until it resided in his hands.

It took a long time.

On the 25th of December, Hardison handed her a box as the rest of the team sat watching.

She opened it, and stared in shock for a good 5 minutes.

Then she squashed it against her chest with such ferocity that Hardison was sure it would break apart at the seams. When she looked up at him, it was with a tear-streaked, smiling face.

Hardison's Christmas wish was granted that year as well.


	8. After All This Time

**So, in case you hadn't heard already, Christian Kane's new full-length album comes out on December 7****th****! And then five days later, Leverage returns with a marathon(ish – three episodes in two weeks). :)**

**Pairing: Hardison/Parker**

**Prompt: I bet you didn't know that…**

**-O- After All This Time**

In the beginning, the members of the Leverage team were strangers. Hired for one single job. That was it. They didn't plan on the one after that. Or the one after that. But they happened, as though it had been fated. And they grew to know each other. In some cases, they grew to like, even love each other.

It was love that led Parker and Hardison to discover that they'd both been in the foster program. Not _a_ foster program, _the_ foster program. The same one.

Hardison had been with the same foster mother since day one, of course. Nana, he called her. He always spoke well about her, never wished her ill. He'd always secretly wished that Parker could have been as lucky, but at the same time he realized that, most likely, none of this would have happened, had she had loving parents.

Parker, on the other hand, had bounced around to different homes from day one. She never stayed with one family longer than a month. The longest had been five months, and every second had been a living hell for her. Most of the time, she purposely stirred up trouble, trying to get away from her current "parents".

She'd just been kicked out of her previous "family", on account of being too much work and too much of a nuisance. And the Moor's were putting it as nicely as they could with out telling a complete lie. She didn't have to wait more than a day for another foster family to come along. The woman had six other kids, all from the foster program. Parker would be her seventh.

The trouble with big foster families like that, was that the kids never got as much attention as they should have, or could have had they been placed with a smaller family. Parker was thirteen the day she walked into that busy household. She'd barely set foot over the threshold when she was greeted with the shouts of younger kids, stampeding through the house in a hectic fashion. She took one look at the place, and tried to walk back out, only to be stopped by the child care agent, Heather.

So she was forced to stay. And she hated it. She caused as much trouble as she could, in the hopes that she'd be relocated. It was on one of her expeditions around the house that she stumbled upon little Alec's room. The door had been locked, but of course that had been no problem for Parker.

He had been hunched over his laptop, furiously pounding at the keys. His fingers moved as if they had a mind of their own. He glanced up, surprised to see a human form standing in his room. In one swift movement, he paused the game he had been playing.

When he looked back over his shoulder, she was gone.


	9. When the Crow Flies Low

**Pairings: Hardison/Parker, Nate/Sophie**

**Prompt: 5 things the team does on a rainy day**

**-O- When the Crow Flies Low**

_Eliot_

What's a little rain to someone who has survived bombings, shootings, captivity, and Parker, among other things? It's nothing, Eliot thinks, as he jogs down the sidewalk in shorts and a crew neck, glasses (he'd forgotten contacts that morning) streaked with the tears of the sky.

The rain is still pouring, sounding like a thousand rounds from a gun shattering against the walls and driving Eliot on as he whirls, kicks, and punches at the weighted dummy in front of him.

The sizzling of burgers cooking on the stove nearly matches that of the rain. Eliot flips his lunch in the air with a spatula, and it lands on a plate just as the raindrops land on the roof.

Eliot steps onto his porch, footing steady and secure despite the slickness of the wood with water, and watches as the leaves in his garden bow under the weight of the rain. Tomorrow they will stand up straighter than ever.

The rain is what lulls him into sleep that night. It's also what wakes him in the morning. Not the sound of rain slapping the roof, but the absence of it.

_Parker_

Parker's no stranger to the rain. She's pulled off plenty of jobs in a downpour, nearly lost her footing many a time on slippery ledges. But now the only thing she's losing is the dirt pasted onto her skin from crawling through a tunnel yesterday as she steps into the warm shower.

The sound of her pick slipping into the dummy lock that she always practices on matches that of the rain clicking onto the balcony of her apartment. She sets it down, and moves onto a more challenging lock.

Black rope snakes through her hands with ease as she adds the finishing touches to her newest bungee system. The roof calls to her, its tantalizing cry punctuated with the falling of the rain.

They've just installed a new security system at the art museum. Parker's on her way over to scope it out, and she wonders briefly, staring out past the rain-speckled windshield of her black Viper at the Victorian-style building, if she should have invited Hardison along.

Before she goes to sleep, Parker sits on her bed, staring out the window. The rain flecks it with a random design, streaking the glass and making everything beyond it blurry. The water trickles down the pane as it trickles down her face. She's remembering a night much like this many years ago, when her best friend and brother rode his bike for the first and last time.

_Hardison_

Hardison doesn't have a feud with the rain. After all, he'd rather spend his time inside on the computer than outside doing… well, anything really. His fingers fly across the keys as he hacks into a top-grade security system in less than a minute, the clicking of the keys sounding like the pattering of the rain outside his window.

The beeping of a microwave signals his lunch break. He stands up, stretching the kinks out of his back, and presses the door to open the microwave. The steaming hot burrito burns the roof of his mouth, and he swears. Suddenly the rain doesn't look as bad.

His phone rings, interrupting the steady sound of the rain on the roof of his top-floor apartment. It's his Nana, calling to invite him over for dinner. He'll decline, just as he always does. It's not that he doesn't want to see her. He just can't risk the enemies he's made – the ones he knows about and the ones he doesn't – finding their way to her.

They've just installed a new security system at the art museum. Hardison's on his way over to scope it out, and he wonders briefly, staring out past the rain-speckled windshield of his gray Mustang at the Victorian-style building, if he should have invited Parker along.

He's about to go to bed when the phone rings again. The ring is different this time, softer against the fall of the rain outside. It's the ring he set to Parker's number.

_Sophie_

It used to be that Sophie would relish in a rain fall. She would use it to her advantage in a grift, pretending to be the damsel in distress, in need of shelter from the cold shoulders of the rain. Now, she unfolded her umbrella and hurried along from store to store with her head bent against the cold wind.

The sound of the monsoon on the other side of Sophie's window matched that of her six-inch heels, clacking noisily against the hardwood floor as she paced in front of her mirror, admiring the expensive outfit she had just bought with the money from the last job.

She's on her way back to the store after realizing that she forgot to buy that sexy little mini-dress for Parker. The thief may refuse it at first, but once she saw the effect it had on Hardison… Sophie smiled knowingly as she watched the wind-shield wipers of her black Sedan dance furiously back and forth across the window.

The message machine is blinking red when she gets back. It's a message for one of her other alias's, asking if she would like to continue with her subscription of Home and Gardens magazine. She erases it, and the rain seems to approve of her choice as it cheers against the roof.

A sheet of paper sits in front of her. It's covered in her majestic writing, repeating the same two words over and over again. It's her name. Her _real_ name. If she doesn't do this every night before she goes to bed, she's afraid she'll lose sight of herself. As she watches the paper curl in the fire, protected from the rain outside, she wonders if she made the right choice in not telling Nate.

_Nate_

Rain never stopped Nate when he was in pursuit of an insurance fraud or an art thief. At the same time, he'd always been afraid to let little Sammy play outside in the rain, for fear of his only son catching a cold. Now he sat at the bar in McRory's, the splashing of alcohol into his cup matching that of the rain splashing onto the sidewalks outside.

The rain pouring down from Heaven seems like the perfect detail to turn Nate's visit to his son's grave into a dreary affair. He briefly wishes Sophie was there with him, so he wouldn't have to face it alone.

His apartment is still a mess from the last job the team worked on together, and the downpour outside seems like the perfect excuse to finally get around to cleaning it up.

After his brief cleaning spree, Nate settles onto the couch. A large shot glass and bottle of alcohol sit before him on the coffee table. His hand reaches toward it, but somehow he stops himself. Perhaps it's the thought of what Sophie will think of him – that he'd rather succumb to the lures of alcoholic escape than face the rain.

The phone rings. It's a new client, and his voice is garbled from the sound of the rain in the background. Nate will wait until tomorrow, once the storm's cleared, to call the team.


	10. One of Those Annoying Emails

**This isn't exactly a story, but I thought it would be a fun thing to do. Oh, by the way, feel free to suggest prompts for this story. No, seriously, please do. I have none left. **

**Pairings: implied parker/Hardison and nate/sophie**

**Prompt: fill out a quiz from eliot's POV**

**-O- One of Those Annoying E-mails**

**Choose Your Favorite Characters from Movies/Books/TV Shows etc. and do this! **

I think it would be more interesting to use the team's names

**1. Nate**

**2. Sophie**

**3. Hardison**

**4. Parker**

**5. me (Eliot)**

**6. Maggie**

**7. Kae Lynn **

**8. Tara**

**9. Agent McSweeten**

**10. Detective Bonanno**

**11. Sterling (how do I make that angry face?)**

**12. Cora  
**

**1. Have you ever read a Six/Eleven fic before?**

Maggie and Sterling? You mean would they hook up? No.

**2. Do you think four is hot? How hot?**

Parker. She's 20 pounds of crazy in a five pound bag.

**3. What would happen if 12 got 8 pregnant?**

Cora/Tara. -_-

**4. Do you recall any fic about Nine?**

What do you mean by "fic"?

**5. Would Two and Six make a good couple?**

Sophie and Maggie? Funny that you should mention Nate's two "women".

**6. Five/Nine or Five/Ten?**

me/Tara or me/Bonanno. You've got to be kidding.

**7. What would happen if Seven walked in on Two and Twelve having sex?**

Kae Lynn on Sophie/Cora. You have one sick mind.

**8. Make up a summary for a Three/Ten fic.**

Hardison/Bonanno. Would someone please explain to me what a "fic" is?

**9. Is there any such thing as One/Eight fluff?**

Nate/Tara. *scoffs*

**10. Suggest a title for a Seven/Twelve hurt/comfort fic.**

Kae Lynn/Cora. Hardison has just informed me that a "fic" is some type of story. So, "Touch Kae, I'll Break Your Face"

**11. What kind of plot would you use for Four to de-flower One?**

Parker/Nate? That's like… what is wrong with you?

**12. Does anyone on your friends list read Three het?  
**  
I'm thinking no.

**13. Does anyone on your friends list write Eleven?  
**Sterling is a bastard, if that's what you were asking.

**14. Would anyone on your friend's list read Two/Four/Five?  
**  
Sophie/Parker/me. Oh, no.

**15. What might Ten scream at a moment of passion?  
**  
Bonanno. "Drop your weapons!"?

** you wrote a song-fic about Eight, what song would you choose?  
**  
Tara. Is there a song about a traitorous b**ch?

**17. If you wrote a One/Six/Twelve fic, what would the warning be?**

Nate/Maggie/Cora. Never gonna happen.

**18. What might be a good pick-up line for Ten to use on Two?**

Bonanno/Sophie. "I won't arrest you."

**19. How might Eleven describe a relationship between Two and Eight?**

Sterling on Sophie/Tara. How many of these questions are there?

**20. How Emo is Seven?  
**Kae Lynn. I'm going to pretend you didn't just ask that.

**21. "(1) and (7) are in a happy relationship until (9) runs off with (7). (1), brokenhearted, has a hot one-night stand with (11) and a brief unhappy affair with (12), then follows the wise advice of (5) and finds true love with (3)."**

What am I supposed to do, fill in the blanks?

Nate and Kae Lynn are in a happy relationship until McSweeten runs off with Kae Lynn. Nate, brokenhearted, has a hot one-night stand with Sterling and a brief unhappy affair with Cora, then follows the wise advice of me and finds true love with Hardison.

Like hell that would ever happen.

**22. What title would you give this story?**

"Nate who?"

**23. By the way, I set you up on a date with Two!**

S-sophie? *laughs at how much of an idiot you are*

**24. How would you feel if Seven/Eight were in a fight?**

Kae Lynn/Tara. They've never met..

**25. What would you think if you found (5) was a really good friend of a sibling or relative of yours?**

me? Well, I wouldn't be that surprised

**26. How would you react if you saw (8) and (11) in a closet together with a rubber ducky?**

Tara/Sterling. I knew that b**ch was a traitor!

**What if (2) dissed you in the worst possible way ever?**

Sophie? What, you mean like going behind our backs and using us to steal a priceless piece of art? Yeah, THAT would never happen.

**28. If you saw (9) and (3) in bed together, what would you do?**

Parker, stop reading over my shoulder. McSweeten/Hardison. Parker just left, so thank you for that.

**29. What would you say if you found out that (12) was a rapist?**

Cora. Right, and I'm not a criminal.

**30. You just came home from school and all of your friends hate you, your teacher just gave you an F on the most important project of the year (just imagine it happened for the smart alecks out there), and your parents have grounded you as your teacher had already called and told them of your grade. You open the door to your bedroom and you find (10) rummaging through your stuff. What do you do?**

Bonanno. I change my name and move across state.

**31. What would you think if (1) was emo and had tried to slit his/her wrists? If (1) is already emo/slit his/her wrists already, what would you think if (1) became the most optimistic person in the world?**

Nate. I wouldn't be surprised if he does.

**32. What would you feel this second if (4) gave you a daisy right now?**

Parker. I wouldn't even bother wondering why.

**33. (6) has just stolen your hairbrush. What is the first thing you would say?**

Maggie. "Does Nate know?"

**34. (7), (9), and (4) have banded together at 3 in the morning and starts to sing the most annoying song you know as loud as they can, waking you up. What is the first thing you think?**

Kae Lynn, McSweeten, and Parker. Well, Kae Lynn I wouldn't mind. Parker, I wouldn't be surprised. McSweeten goes anywhere Parker does.

**35. (2) and (11) are your teachers. What would you do?**

Sophie and Sterling. What do you think?


	11. The Empty Sound of Silence

**Prompt courtesy of Jarlyfan626**

**Pairing: None**

**Prompt: Nate ponders the moment of silence each time he utters the phrase "Talk to me, Eliot."**

**-O-The Empty Sound of Silence**

So many things can go wrong during a job. And Nate can't account for everything. So when he hears the guttural growls, the sharp intakes and exhales of breath, the grunts and swears and thumps over Eliot's comm, he has to take a moment to regain his outwardly calm composure. When he hears that loud crack, too loud to be normal, or that sharp thwang of metal on bone, he has to suppress his urge to jump out of the room and find the hitter.

And then when the noises end, often at an abrupt pace, he knows it's over. Just not how it ended. So he says "Talk to me, Eliot." in the hopes that he'll get a response. And when he doesn't answer, he worries. He worries that something went wrong, that the unbeatable retrieval specialist was beat. That the ex-soldier lost his battle legs. The hitter was hit one too many times. So he says it again. And during the silence that follows, he hopes that there will be a response.

And then Eliot's voice comes over the comms, guttural and halting, but alive. And Nate breaths out, relieved, and the con goes on.


	12. The past is the past, the future is ours

**So I'm not going to write any prompt about Eliot's past that was discussed in the season finale. I feel like some things are better left unsaid… (and I tried to write it, and failed miserably). So I wrote this instead.**

**Pairings: None**

**-O- The past is the past, but the future is ours**

"_What did you do?"_

"_Don't ask me that, Parker. Because if you do, I will tell you. And you do not want to know."_

"_We all have our pasts."_ Sophie had reassured the retrieval specialist in his time of need. Because that's what she did. But the more she thought about it, later that day, after everything had blown over, the more she realized the truth behind it.

They did all have their pasts, but they'd never shared them with anyone. It was amazing how little they actually knew about each other. None of them knew what the others had been through in their previous lives. They didn't know anything about their families, and only what they chose to reveal about their friends. And yet they trusted each other anyway. They trusted in the fact that Eliot would have their backs in the heat of battle, that Parker would return with the merchandise as quickly as she had left to retrieve it, that Sophie wouldn't blow their cover, that Hardison would keep them safe from prying eyes, and that Nate would watch over all of them.

And they didn't ask either. Nobody asked Eliot what he had done – at least, not after seeing him so distraught. Nobody wanted to ask, either. It wasn't just that they respected his privacy, it was that they didn't want to know, realized that if he had told, they would have never looked at him in the same light again, maybe never trust him again.

It was just so much easier to not know.


	13. Let it Snow

**Long time no see! This prompt is also courtesy of Jarlyfan626 :) **

**Pairing: Parker/Hardison**

**Prompt: Parker tries to find out who ordered her the snow**

**-O- Let it Snow**

It was snowing. It was really snowing.

Parker stood out in the street, staring up at the white sky, watching the little flakes dance around her in a silent serenade of winter. She held out her tongue, relishing in the pure coldness of the flakes as they landed, until it became numb.

She burst into the pub, shaking the white flakes out of her hair. Her gaze swept around the room. "Who ordered the snow?"

Everyone glanced up in confusion.

"What?" Nate was the first to speak.

"I want to know who ordered me the snow, so that I can thank him!"

"Parker, you can't order snow-"

She waved his comment away, running up to Eliot and nearly getting impaled on his new sword. Not that she noticed. "Was it you?"

"No. Now would you be careful?"

Parker was already standing in front of her next suspect. Sophie. "Was it you?"

"No, Parker. Even I can't make it snow."

"Parker, no one ordered the snow-"

Hardison stood up, cutting Nate off in his rush. "Uh, Parker? You're welcome."

Parker broke into a wide grin. "It was you!" she cried, racing over to him.

"Uh-huh. All me," Sophie shook her head at him, but she was smiling.

"Thank you!" Parker threw her arms around Hardison. Stunned, Hardison forgot to hug back. He smiled as she let go. Then she did something he hadn't expected in a million years. Sure, he'd hoped for it, but…

She stood on her tip-toes, planting a small peck on Hardison's cheek.


	14. Exceptions

**Warnings: White Collar/Leverage crossover, pre-series for both (for White Collar, pre-Neal meeting Kate)**

**Pairings: slight Neal/Parker**

**Prompt: Neal was a thief. Parker is a thief.**

**-O- Exceptions**

The first time Neal Caffrey met the thief who was Parker, she was crawling through a vent, getting away with stolen museum property. _His_ stolen museum property. He tailed her to a parking garage, where he confronted her.

"Normally, I'd be pissed that you stole my stolen artifact," he called out as he strode up behind her. "But I'm impressed. How'd you do it?"

Parker hadn't answered him then, just flashed him a brilliant smile before leaping over the rail and disappearing into the night.

The second time was at a bank in San Fransisco. He noticed her casing the place, she noticed him watching her. She waited as he walked over.

"Hey, Neal," she winked.

"Aw, that's not fair. You know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Parker."

"That's it, just Parker? Well, tell you what, Parker. I was planning to hit this bank, and it seems you were doing the same. Why don't we team up?" He'd been scanning the room as he said this, and when he finally looked back at Parker, she was gone.

A day later, it was reported that 2.5 million in cash had been stolen from the bank. Whoever had done it had left behind a note, reading only _"I work alone."_

A year went by, and then another. Neal forged his bonds, Parker rolled in her stolen money. When they met for the third time, they were both on the run. Neal from Peter, Parker from Nate. Neal had escaped Nate once before, Parker had eluded Peter many times. They shared strategies, and as they parted ways, both free from tails, Neal said, "I thought you worked alone."

Parker had shrugged. "I make exceptions," had been her response, the words lingering in the air in front of the open window of the hotel room.

Neal had hung onto those words, waiting for his next opportunity to meet with the thief. He never got the chance. Peter Burke finally found him. And then he became a consultant for the FBI, and all hopes of doing a job with Parker were laid to rest.

Parker, likewise, found a home with other thieves, stealing from the rich and giving back to the poor. She thought about Neal every once in a while, and remembered what she had told him, so many years ago.

There are exceptions to every rule.


	15. The Words We Do Not Say

**Prompt courtesy of Jarlyfan626**

**Pairings: none**

**Prompt: after leaving the park Parker considers asking him again. Spoilers to the Big Bang Job**

**-O- The Words We Do Not Say**

"_Don't ask me that, Parker."_

But she wanted to. She wanted to know what he had done that was so bad that it could crack even his emotionless front.

"_Because if you do, I will tell you."_

Would he really tell her? Did he really trust her that much? She wanted to find out, she wanted to know how much she really meant to him. He never shared his secrets. He was always the mysterious one of the team. She knew he was trying to protect them from his past, but could he have done that was so bad? And why had he said he would tell her? Was it because he knew she wouldn't ask again? But she was curious. Maybe it would help her understand him better. Maybe it would help him to talk about it.

"_And you don't want to know."_

Was it really that bad? She'd done some things in her life that she wasn't proud of… no, that wasn't true. She was proud of most of them. But she'd _seen_ some pretty bad things. She was sure she could handle what Eliot had to tell her. She wasn't a kid anymore. But at the same time… Eliot was like a brother to her. She respected him, even if she didn't show it all the time. She knew it would be painful for him, voicing his past to her. She looked up to him, and did she really want to hear what he had to say? What if it _was_ bad, so bad that it changed her opinion of him completely. What if every time she looked at him, she would only be able to see his secret?

No, no she didn't. He'd keep his secret; she'd keep her big brother. Because there are some words, we simply do not say.


	16. In a Word

**There's this band called Parachute, and they have this one song called "She (For Liz)" and it reminds me so much of Hardison and Parker's relationship! Look it up on youtube if you want, it's a nice song.**

**Pairings: None**

**Prompt: There is a difference between hitter and hit man.**

**-O- In a Word**

"_But that's what our resident hit man's for, right?" Parker asked, playfully punching Eliot's shoulder._

_He pulled away, wincing. "Don't call me that, Parker."_

_She frowned. "Why not?"_

_There were so many ways to answer that question. Instead, Eliot looked up at Nate. "What's our plan?"_

Why not? Eliot recalled the thief's words, spoken so innocently, as he stood on the stoop of his house later that night. He unlocked the door, and went through the motions of hanging his coat and walking into the kitchen. He thought about what he could have said, what he had chosen not to say.

Why not, Parker? I'm not a hit man. I'm a hitter. I don't take people out for a living. _Take them out? she would have asked._ Kill them, Parker. Maim. Injure. Arrange certain deaths for. That's what a hit man does. A hit man has no conscience, no soul. It's not good for the job. _Why not?_ You have a conscience, Parker. Would you be able to kill an innocent man? Exactly. Hit men only care about the money. They don't care what the job is. They'll tear apart families for, _he'd pause then, pulling out a crisp dollar bill. _This. Paper. Now, me? I'm a hitter. A retrieval specialist. Someone needs something retrieved, so long as it's not a life, it's my job to get it for 'em. I have a conscience. _Oh, she'd say. There would be silence. And then Eliot would say,_

That's why not, Parker.


	17. She For Parker

**Pairing: Hardison/Parker**

**Prompt: She (for Liz) by Parachute**

**-O- She (For Parker)**

Hardison had made a mistake. A stupid, idiotic, dumbass mistake. He knew how much Parker cared about him, and he freaking blew it. He hadn't even _done_ anything, he'd just flirted. Okay, he had made plans for a date, but that was beside the point. He had watched the thief storm out of the pub, eyes shining, clenched fists. His date had asked what was wrong, but the hacker hadn't heard. He'd stared down into the mini bowl of pretzels, cursing himself for being such an idiot.

Now he stood outside of Sophie' apartment – he knew Parker well enough to know that's where she'd go, and plus he had no idea where the thief lived – gripping the guitar in his hands and wondering if this was about to be yet another mistake. He'd only taken up guitar five months ago, and he was a wretched singer. But he had to try, and so he let out an unsteady breath and let the first chord ring out.

"_She has no problem with secrets, she knows how to keep them, she never felt the need to let them show. I've had no trouble with speaking or trusting my instincts, and maybe this is on that I should know. But as I'm waiting here the devil on my shoulder stares, laughing at the one thing I can't get is what I need._

"_She, she is the words that I can't find. How can the only thing that's killing me make me feel so alive? And I couldn't speak, I couldn't breathe to save my life. All of my chances swim like sinking ships, this time it's it, I'll drown or make her mine._

"_My vocal chords have been fighting, my mouth likes to spite me, it never says the words that come to mind. I brought a stick to a gun fight, and I'm stuck with my tongue tied. I run but I can't hide what's always there._

"_She, she is the words that I can't find. How can the only thing that's killing me make me feel so alive? And I couldn't speak, I couldn't breathe to save my life. All of my chances swim like sinking ships, this time it's it, I'll drown or make her mine. _

"_I can see these things I'd do but never seem to follow through… She, she is the words that I can't find. How can the only thing that's killing me make me feel so alive? Whoa I said I'll drown or make her mine, and I couldn't breath to save my life, all of my chances swim like sinking ships, this time it's it. I'll drown or make her mine."_

The door opened just as Hardison finished the song to reveal a smiling Parker. Dried tearstains decorated her cheeks. Hardison just barely glimpsed a smirking Sophie standing the background before he was engulfed in the thief's arms.

"Just so you know," she whispered, her breath tickling his ear. "Your singing voice sucks."


	18. Moment After Time

**Pairing: Eliot/Parker**

**Prompt: A writing exercise I found online about hands. if you're interested I can PM you the link**

**-O- Moment After Time**

Strong, callused hands that grasp at times with loving warmth, and still at other times curl up into hard fists, filled with unforgiving hatred. Each finger containing its own rhythm, and yet working as one. Warm, always itching to move.

Now they curl up into those hard fists, waiting, tense. Coming into contact with flesh and cloth, parting the sea of bodies. Rising up to strike, down to block. Dealing blow after countless blow. Then slowly, uncurling, dangling at his side. Swaying slightly as he runs forward. Brushing gently across her face, moving aside the stray hair. The sounds of the Costa Rican rainforest resume around him, slowly becoming louder. He doesn't notice, even as they become as loud as his father, screaming at him to get out. His mouth is open, his breath shallow. He surveys her body, looking for signs of life.

"Eliot, is Parker with you?"

He swallows guiltily, having forgotten about the wire. "Parker's with me, yeah. For now."


	19. Secrets Kept and Secrets Left

**So I'm going to be taking a break from this story for a little while, while I work on my next Psych, White Collar, and Leverage fics. Feel free to check them out!**

**Pairing: None**

**Prompt: The team discovers a secret about Eliot**

**-O- Secrets Kept and Secrets Left**

Parker was curious. So she broke into Eliot's house, one night while he was out watching hockey. She was just planning to look around. She knew that if she moved so much as a magazine even slightly, he would know she'd been there. So she crept through the house, searching with her eyes. And her eyes found. Her eyes found a hidden safe. And she couldn't resist. So she opened it.

The files were all stacked neatly on top of one another. Parker drew them out, flipping through and opening to the first page. Nate stared back at her. She flipped again. Hardison. Sophie. Her. They were all files on _them_. The team.

Parker knew better than to confront Eliot about it. Instead, she went to Nate. Nate went to Sophie. Sophie went to Hardison. And they all went to Eliot.

Eliot was pissed that Parker had broken into his house and invaded his privacy, as he rightly should be. They were a team, he protested. They were supposed to trust each other. Teams don't keep secret files on each other, was Nate's retort. If he trusted them as much as he said he did, why did he have those files?

Why? Eliot growled. You want to know why? Because I'm trying to protect you.


	20. Her Rose wreathed Hair

**I'm back! :) However, I am making a slight change in the way I'm writing this. I will only post a new chapter if someone gives me a prompt, either in a PM or a review message. So if you want to read more, or have something you want to read about, let me know!**

**Pairing: Eliot/OC**

**Prompt: Eliot's never had a love interest that lasted more than a few episodes. Why?**

**Disclaimer: Title from Letitia Elizabeth Landon's poem, "Revenge".**

**-O- Her Rose-wreathed Hair**

Sometimes he'll catch glimpses of her – as Parker flips her hair, the golden locks catching his eye as they dance through the air. In the way Sophie purses her lips in distaste whenever Nate brings the wine glass to his lips. Even once when Kaylin swung one graceful leg over the side of his motorcycle, her soft hands around his waist radiating trust.

But it's not until Parker saunters into the apartment one day with a red rose tucked haphazardly behind her ear that he sees her again, completely.

She's not pursing her lips at him at she bandages bruised and bloody fists. She's not flipping her hair out of her face as she watches him cook. She's not hugging his waste as they coast down a back road. She's not doing anything.

Instead, he's the one running a quivering hand through his hair as he stares down at her. He's the one aching to reach out and grip her hand, but letting his fists curl into balls at his side. He's the one biting his lip, biting back his emotions.

He's the one slipping the dark red rose, bright in contrast to her cold, pale skin, behind her ear.


	21. Setbacks

**This prompt is courtesy of Alece. I've changed it a little, but it's basically the same.**

**On a side note, has anybody been able to get their radio station to play "Let Me Go"? I sent in a comment (not even in the request section…), and they replied the next day saying they'd added it to the playlist! Needless to say, I've been listening non-stop since :)**

**Prompt: ****A situation where there is an uncomfortable silence after a job - flashback to****  
****the con from beginning that ends with Eliot being entirely too comfortable****  
****pretending to be Parker's significant other.**

**-O- Setbacks**

There was no reason for the silence that stretched between the five people seated in Sophie's Hummer. The con had been successful. The idiot of a mark hadn't suspected a thing. It was the first time Eliot could remember not having at least one bruise. There was no reason for the silence, and yet there it was.

On second thought, maybe there was a reason. Maybe it didn't have to do with the con itself, but rather something that had happened, in passing, after the job. More specifically, something Parker had done.

"_Parker!" Eliot hissed, gritting his teeth. The thief had disappeared, _again_. _

_There was a thump behind him and a flash of black sped by the corner of his eye as Parker dropped from the ceiling. Eliot clenched his muscles until they ached to stop himself from jumping. He turned to face her, about to chew her out for her recklessness, when the stairwell door clicked open._

_Neither of them had time to think. Parker grabbed Eliot by the shoulders – her tiny hands were surprisingly rough on his skin – and shoved him up against the wall. Her lips had locked against his before he'd even had time to think. For someone supposedly so afraid of contact with the opposite sex, her kisses weren't half bad._

"'_Scuse me, excuse me!" The man, obviously some low-pay-grade guy. muttered, averting his eyes as he walked by, his stride quickening and cheeks flamed with embarrassment. _

_Parker broke away as soon as the man rounded the corner._

"_Parker!" Eliot hissed, brushing her hands away from his shoulders. "What the hell?"_

The silence in the car was finally broken by a smirking Parker as she glanced at Hardison.

"Who knew Eliot was such a good kisser," she raised her eyebrows.

Hardison gaped. He stared at Eliot, his mouth working with unspoken words. "You – you kissed her _back_?"


	22. I can be your Romeo

**So, as a result of the multitude of songs I've recently bought from iTunes, there will be several more chapters added to his today and tomorrow. 'Cause music is basically my inspiration for everything writing-related.**

**There's also the fact that it's mind-blowingly hot outside. Not to mention muggy. Ugh. I'll take an air-conditioned room over 108 degree (yes, you read that right) temperatures any day. (I'm looking at the weather reports right now and it says, and I quote, "WARNING: From the National Weather Service… HEAT ADVISORY in effect until Friday, July 22". No kidding).**

**Okay, on to the story. This prompt is brought to you by Brown Eyes Parker.**

**Prompt: ****Parker to Eliot: whatever happened to real romance? Like****long, soppy letters in long-hand?**

**Pairing: Parker/Hardison, one-sided Parker/Eliot**

**-O- I can be your Romeo**

Eliot's decided that it's time to leave the pub. He's spent too much time there already, when he should be home, debriefing himself like he does after every job. It's stupid, he knows it, but old habits die hard. And besides, the place is becoming too crowded. Crowds make Eliot jumpy. It's too hard to keep tabs on people, too easy for an enemy to sneak up on him.

People like the thief who just claimed the barstool next to him, jostling his elbow and making him spill the last remnants of his beer. She's surprised him – a difficult thing for anyone but Parker - and he fights the urge to jump.

He watches as she flags down the bartender and orders some pretzels. Of course, always pretzels. She smiles at him, and suddenly he's thrown off-guard. He loses focus on the people swarming around them. It's just her, she's the one who has commanded his full and undivided attention. She doesn't know it, though, and he has no intentions of telling her. Maybe he would have, one day, but that was before she and Hardison became a "thing".

"Horses aren't all that bad," she says, twirling a lock of her beautiful blonde hair and throwing it over her shoulder. Eliot doesn't respond. He knows without asking that she's referring to the racehorse job they pulled off during their first year as a team. That's just the way it was with Parker. She'd start off a conversation with something completely random, something that you could only understand if you knew her.

"Children, on the other hand," she shudders. The conversation has jumped to their most recent job, which involved Parker posing as the manager of a daycare center.

Eliot's in the middle of composing a sufficient reply when her cell phone beeps. She palms it out of her pocket and slides it open. Whatever she's reading – Eliot is willing to bet his entire earnings from the last three jobs that it's the hacker – has made her giggle. She types a response, sighs, and slides her phone shut.

A long moment of silence stretches between them.

"Whatever happened to real romance? Like, long, sappy letters in long-hand? All Hardison ever does is text," she sighs.

Eliot swallows. "He's a geek, Parker, what do you expect?" he asks sarcastically. He congratulates himself on keeping the contempt out of his voice.

Parker shrugs. "I don't know, I've never really… done this sort of thing before. Fork, stab, maim, you know?" She imitates stabbing a fork into his shoulder. He grins. It's a totally honest grin, too.

"How could I forget?"


End file.
